MONT BLANC FROM THE COL DE BALME.MONT BLANC FROM THE COL DE BALME.
"There is a calm upon me—Inexplicable stillness! which till nowDid not belong to what I knew of life.... It will not last,But it is as well to have known it, though but once;It hath enlarged my thoughts with a new sense,And I within my tablets would note down... That there is such a feeling."
"There is a calm upon me—Inexplicable stillness! which till nowDid not belong to what I knew of life.... It will not last,But it is as well to have known it, though but once;It hath enlarged my thoughts with a new sense,And I within my tablets would note down... That there is such a feeling."
"The mists boil up around the glaciers; cloudsRise curling fast beneath me, white and sulphury."
"The mists boil up around the glaciers; cloudsRise curling fast beneath me, white and sulphury."
WWould that our stay could have been prolonged! but frail human nature cannot perform impossibilities. We had been on foot nine hours, and had a long day's work before us; furthermore we were thinly clad, and were exposed to a chilly breeze, from which no shelter could be found; so, casting a look on this indescribable scene, and with feelings of grim satisfaction that its awful stillness would never be profaned by crowds of noisy tourists and vendors of cheap articles, we commenced to retrace our steps.
Would that our stay could have been prolonged! but frail human nature cannot perform impossibilities. We had been on foot nine hours, and had a long day's work before us; furthermore we were thinly clad, and were exposed to a chilly breeze, from which no shelter could be found; so, casting a look on this indescribable scene, and with feelings of grim satisfaction that its awful stillness would never be profaned by crowds of noisy tourists and vendors of cheap articles, we commenced to retrace our steps.
The Mauvaise Arête, bad as we had found it going up, was infinitely worse coming down; the ridge seemed narrower, and the slopes on either side much steeper. Several times our fellows called out "you must not look down, gentlemen;"but fortunately neither S—— nor myself were troubled with nervousness, and we did look down the steep inclines, whose end to all appearance was eternity. Slowly and cautiously the descent was made, each one minding his neighbour as well as himself, and taking special care that the rope should not be slack. We did not walk in step like soldiers on the march, but advanced in a succession of jerks as it were. François having made a step, stood still; S—— having followed his example, I did the same, and when Jules had completed his part of the performance, the opera was repeated. Some idea of the steepness of the ridge may be formed, when I say that at one exceptionally steep place I leaned back, and rested my shoulders against it. Jules at once called out, "Don't do that, sir, you are more likely to slip; trust to your heels." So following his advice I dug them well in and by dint of care the foot was safely reached, and we all looked forward to an easy and enjoyable return. But the end had not come yet! At the Rochers des Bosses we felt very much inclined to lie down, and to take it easy, but François urged us on, not liking the appearance of a cloud which was drifting in our direction. Clouds are one of the sources of danger on the mountain, through which cause eleven lives were lost a few years since. The poor fellows being unable to find their way perished of cold and exposure.
We were marching down the rocks in a leisurely manner, and I, forgetful that we were roped, was paying no attention whatever to those who preceded me, the foot-hold being secure, when suddenly I felt a terrific jerk, and before there was time to plant myself firmly on my feet I had lost my balance, and was on the point of falling headlong, when to my great satisfaction a violent backward pull arrested a very ugly fall, which would probably have resulted in a broken limb if not something worse.
The cause of this was an unseen piece of ice upon which S—— had placed his foot—slipped—and, falling suddenly, had communicated his misfortune to me through the agency of the rope. The alpenstock was jerked violently out of his hand, and went glissading down the snow for a distance of a hundred yards at least. It stopped, however, in a place that fortunately was accessible.
The snow was now no longer in the same condition as in the early morning, the heat, though temperate, being sufficient to soften the crust, and render walking very laborious; and as we reached the top of the incline, where the expedition nearly came to an abrupt termination, and down which we had expected to glissade, we found the snow so soft that we sank in it to the knee and occasionally to the waist. Floundering along, and with an occasional grumble at a style of workfor which we had not bargained, we slowly and gradually descended this unlucky slope, till its foot was reached. Parched and weary we went on, keeping a sharp look out for the wine we had left in the snow. "There it is!" "No! that belongs to the foreigners." "Then ours can't be far off;" and sure enough it was found in the same place where we had left it. Our stock of drinkables was now exhausted.
Nearing the Petit Plateau we were enabled to examine the much-feared avalanches, which were almost invisible during the ascent. In appearance they were not unlike chalk cliffs, cracked here and there as though the foundation had yielded. On the whole, these huge blocks looked safe enough, with the exception of one some thirty feet in height which was hanging over, ripe for a fall at any moment. Under the very shadow of this threatening mass of consolidated snow we were bound to pass, and, eyeing it with suspicion, we increased our pace to the utmost possible speed, when, as luck would have it, S—— sank into a mixture of ice and snow just as we were immediately underneath. François turned back, and tugged away; Jules went forward to assist, but their united efforts proving of no avail they resorted to their ice-axes, and finally succeeded in quarrying out the imprisoned limb. This was probably the most hair-breadth escape during the whole expedition. With feelings of relief we walked on in silence, andcrossed the same uninviting ridges, high walls of ice, with crevasses on the right hand and on the left; as it was softer than on our way up, there was a feeling of suspicion that the material might give way at any moment. However, it held good, and once again we exclaimed, "All right."
Moving cautiously along, we reached the brink of the nearly vertical slope referred to in the ascent, and now that it was visible we wondered how we had climbed it. Looking down it appeared quite perpendicular, and its condition was so changed by the influence of the sun that going down in the same free and easy way that we had climbed up was quite out of the question. "François, cannot we get round that way?" "It is impossible, sir." "Well, what is to be done?" "Oh! we shall manage very well!" We were now untied, then each one in turn was fastened round the chest with an end of the rope, the other being held by those above. S—— went first and disappeared over the brink; my turn came next, and holding the rope firmly, and kicking my feet into the soft névé, I joined him below; then François followed, and lastly Jules, and a very trying time it must have been for him, for he was obliged to descend by his own unaided exertions. The rope being fastened round his waist, we held the other end, carefully taking in the slack as he came down, so that in the event of a fall we might prevent him from slipping into eternity down theslope on which we stood. As he worked his way down by kicking his feet into the partially-melted névé, and retaining his vertical position by means of the ice-axe, he seemed like a fly on a wall, and was more to be admired than envied; but to his credit he descended the forty-five feet without a slip.
Pausing for a few minutes, we commenced the descent of les Montées in a very matter-of-fact way, glissading being quite out of the question on account of the soft condition of the snow, for the weather was now excessively hot. Although we were going downhill, the work was trying enough, and to make matters worse the flask was empty! However, the Grands Mulets were in sight, and the thought of the "Cabane," and the refreshment contained therein, encouraged us as we alternately buried and extricated our legs in and out of the yielding snow. The much-desired haven seemed so very near, that I remarked in a diffident way, "Another quarter of an hour, Jules?" "Three quarters, sir." Deceived again! How provokingly distinct it appeared through the pure atmosphere, unpolluted with smoke, gas, and the many other impurities to which we are subject in England. The remaining thousand feet or thereabouts having been descended without any incident worth recording, we entered the "Cabane" at two o'clock, tired, parched, and our lower extremities wet through. S—— forthwith threw himself on abed, and was sound asleep in a moment. Our trusty fellows disappeared, and having taken off my boots I had some luncheon, with a bottle of beer, which was perfect nectar. I lay down on one of the beds, and smoked the pipe of peace. We had allowed ourselves a rest of an hour and a half; at 3-30 p.m., time being up, we once more and for the last time got into harness, and ten minutes afterwards quitted the "Cabane." We worked our way down the rugged rocks at a quick pace, for the weather had changed and a thunderstorm was rapidly approaching. Heavy clouds were rolling up the valley, and ever and anon a clap of thunder pealed forth, reverberating amongst the mountains. "I am very anxious to cross the glacier before the rain comes down." "Very well, François, go ahead as fast as you like, and we won't stop you." So down the slopes of snow we went at a rapid pace, soon arriving on the ice. Our route was not the same as on going up, in consequence of a change in the crevasses; they are always changing, for the glacier, as I have before explained, never remains still, moving forward at the rate of some three feet or even more per day.
COMING DOWN THE GLACIER DES BOSSONS.COMING DOWN THE GLACIER DES BOSSONS.
On the whole we found the work less trying than on the previous day. Whether it was really so, or only by comparison, I cannot tell; however, there were one or two awkward bits to dispose of, one, especially, which was a perpendicular face of ice forming the side of a deep crevasse, along which we worked our way by stepping into holes cut into it at every two or three feet, and by gripping the ice in notches which were hewn out for this purpose. Then the ropes were untied, and we felt like colts unloosed. The remaining portion of the glacier was speedily crossed; the rocky base of the Aiguille du Midi was traversed at a run; the little torrents were bounded over; the rude zig-zag paths, covered with rolling stones, were scampered down, and Pierre Pointue was safely reached. Here we paid our bill for board and lodging at the Grands Mulets, and whilst refreshing ourselves, we were rather amused at hearing an altercation between the "foreigners"—who, by the way, had made the ascent—and the landlord respecting the price of a bottle of wine! This was the last we saw of them.
We now commenced the final stages of our journey, and a wet one it proved, for the storm was overhead, the lightning flashed, and the rain began to fall; and by the time we entered the Forest des Pélerins, it came down in torrents. Being without top-coats or umbrellas, it was not long in penetrating our thin clothing. But what did it signify? The journey was nearly over, and the thought that our impromptu expedition had been so successful cheered us as we strode down the zig-zags, which seemed never ending. The bottom, however, was reached at last, and, gaining the level, we soonfound ourselves on the outskirts of the village. The populace did not turn out, neither did we attempt to form a procession,à laAlbert Smith, but quietly, and in the same unostentatious manner that we had left on the previous day, we directed our way to the Hotel; on approaching which we were rather astonished at being again saluted by cannon, and much more so at finding the entrance hall of the Hotel filled with guests, who had hurriedly left the table d'hôte to welcome our safe arrival. It was very good of them to give, and very pleasant for us to receive, their kind and unexpected congratulations. Our wet clothes having been changed, we spent a pleasant evening sitting under the verandah, and talking over our adventures.
"Here are the Alpine landscapes which createA fund for contemplation; to admireIs a brief feeling of a trivial date;But something worthier do such scenes inspire."
"Here are the Alpine landscapes which createA fund for contemplation; to admireIs a brief feeling of a trivial date;But something worthier do such scenes inspire."
OOn getting up next morning I felt rather stiff, and there was a burning sensation all over my face and ears, as though they had undergone a mild scorching. The effect of the sun's rays and radiation from the snow is very remarkable, and in a few hours the complexion is dyed the colour of mahogany. Much to our surprise, François and Jules, weather-beaten and sun-burnt as they were before going up, were several shades darker on their return. As for S—— his condition was simply deplorable, and he suffered great inconvenience for more than a week afterwards. For several days he presented an indescribably unwholesome appearance, and itwas not until the whole of his skin had fallen off—which it did piecemeal and in huge flakes—that his good looks were restored. After breakfast our trusty fellows were paid for their services, François receiving one hundred and Jules fifty francs, which with one hundred and fifty-two francs for board and lodging at the Grands Mulets, brought up our expenses to three hundred and two francs, or about £6 each, exclusive of a few extras that are not worth noting; I may say, however, that the ascent is rarely made for so moderate a sum. The regulation number of guides is as follows, viz., two guides and one porter for a traveller, and one extra guide for each additional person, by which we ought to have had three guides and one porter, but not having intended to go further than the Grands Mulets we went with half the usual number, and although we were perfect novices at the work, we got on admirably, and do not quite see what advantage would have been gained by having a larger number of attendants.
On getting up next morning I felt rather stiff, and there was a burning sensation all over my face and ears, as though they had undergone a mild scorching. The effect of the sun's rays and radiation from the snow is very remarkable, and in a few hours the complexion is dyed the colour of mahogany. Much to our surprise, François and Jules, weather-beaten and sun-burnt as they were before going up, were several shades darker on their return. As for S—— his condition was simply deplorable, and he suffered great inconvenience for more than a week afterwards. For several days he presented an indescribably unwholesome appearance, and itwas not until the whole of his skin had fallen off—which it did piecemeal and in huge flakes—that his good looks were restored. After breakfast our trusty fellows were paid for their services, François receiving one hundred and Jules fifty francs, which with one hundred and fifty-two francs for board and lodging at the Grands Mulets, brought up our expenses to three hundred and two francs, or about £6 each, exclusive of a few extras that are not worth noting; I may say, however, that the ascent is rarely made for so moderate a sum. The regulation number of guides is as follows, viz., two guides and one porter for a traveller, and one extra guide for each additional person, by which we ought to have had three guides and one porter, but not having intended to go further than the Grands Mulets we went with half the usual number, and although we were perfect novices at the work, we got on admirably, and do not quite see what advantage would have been gained by having a larger number of attendants.
The next thing to be done was to pay a visit to the guides' office, and on our way there François said, "Sir, will you explain to the chief that when we started we had not intended going further than the Grands Mulets, otherwise we shall be fined, because we were not on turn for the ascent?" The chief listened attentively to my explanation, and then remarked, "In that casethey shall not be punished." We then signed our names in the record book, and afterwards obtained certificates surmounted by comical-looking sketches, supposed to represent the summit with a party of tourists and guides in a variety of absurd attitudes. These documents were numbered 768, which means that this was the seven hundred and sixty-eighth ascent from Chamonix since Balmat successfully reached the top on the 8th August, 1786. They were dated 20th July, 1881, and were signed by François, Jules, and Frederic Payot, the chief guide.
Whilst lolling about during the remainder of the day, we were "interviewed" pretty frequently, and the interest taken in our adventures appeared to be as deep as though the ascent was a matter of very rare occurrence. The first question invariably asked was, "Did you suffer from the rarified air?" The answer to which was, "Not at all as regards breathing, but we none of us had any appetite at a higher elevation than the Grands Mulets." They did not, however, put the second question, which one is always asked in England, "Did it repay you?"
How many are there, of the thousands who visit Chamonix every year, who would not go to the top of Mont Blanc if the journey could be as easily performed as on the Rigi? But risk to life and limb, mountain sickness, wet feet, and rather more walking than they have a fancy for, keepsthem in the lower regions, from which they content themselves with viewing the mountain.
Amongst those who took a special interest in our late achievement were two ladies, who, accompanied by a gentleman, were to make an attempt the following morning. The route had been carefully studied, experienced guides and porters had been engaged, wrappers, veils, and better fare than can be procured at the Grands Mulets, had been provided. The weather, too, was magnificent, the thunderstorm having completely passed away at sunset, so as far as one could foresee they were likely to be favoured by the weather, which is half the battle.
At six next morning, having hurried down to wish them success, I found the party all ready for a start. Two mules, which had been hired to carry their fair burdens to Pierre Pointue, were flapping their long ears and looking as if they thought getting up early a horrid bore. The guides and porters were fully equipped, and amongst other things they were provided with coils of brand new rope, which was indicative of precaution. On coming up to them, one of the ladies, with something very like tears in her eyes, said, "Couttet won't go; the weather has changed; there are clouds on the mountain; so our excursion must be put off." Turning to the guide who was responsible for this decision, he remarked in a most disconsolate tone, "Ah, monsieur, c'est impossible;" and no doubt he was right, for the summit down to the Glacier des Bossons was completely obscured; and what made it all the more vexatious was that in other respects the weather was everything that could be desired. Having expressed my warmest sympathy, I hastened to my room to prepare for our departure by the diligence, which was to leave at seven o'clock.
DIAGRAM SHEWING THE RELATIVE HEIGHTS OF MONT BLANC AND SNOWDONDIAGRAM SHEWING THE RELATIVE HEIGHTS OF MONT BLANC AND SNOWDON
In bringing my narrative to a conclusion, I may say that although the ascent of Mont Blanc is no longer considered difficult or dangerous, I submit that in all probability the route is practically the same as when Balmat made the first ascent. The zig-zags to Pierre Pointue may have been slightly improved, and possibly the path which Albert Smith describes as so trying to the nerves on the way to Pierre à l'Echelle may be a few inches wider, but I doubt whether the Glacier des Bossons, the Montées, the Plateaux, and the Bosses du Dromadaire, have undergone any appreciable change; and I would point out that, although nearly eight hundred ascents have been made in a hundred years, the failures are not recorded. These, I am informed, far exceed the successes; therefore let those whose ambition it is to stand upon the highest point in Europe be prepared to meet with disappointments; for not only may they be unequal to the physical exertion that is necessary, but their expeditionmay be brought to an untimely end by various causes, and above all by the weather; but, on the other hand, should they be favoured as we were, and succeed in reaching the "diadem of snow," I promise them ample repayment. The fatigue undergone, the discomforts endured, and the dangers encountered, will soon be forgotten. But the deep impressions made when viewing the sublimest works of nature from those regions of eternal snow will last as long as life.
IIn1760, De Saussure paid his first visit to Chamonix, and, feeling convinced that the summit was accessible, he promised a handsome reward to anyone who discovered a practicable route, and even offered to pay the wages of all those who attempted the ascent. His guide, Pierre Simon, tried twice—once by the Tacul and once by the Bossons—but returned without success.
In1760, De Saussure paid his first visit to Chamonix, and, feeling convinced that the summit was accessible, he promised a handsome reward to anyone who discovered a practicable route, and even offered to pay the wages of all those who attempted the ascent. His guide, Pierre Simon, tried twice—once by the Tacul and once by the Bossons—but returned without success.
1775.—Four peasants managed to reach a valley of snow which appeared to lead directly to the summit, but they suffered so acutely from the rarified air that they were compelled to return.
1783.—Three guides, Jean Marie Couttet, Lambard Meunier, and Joseph Carrier, attained a great elevation, when one of the party was seized with drowsiness and could proceed no further, so the attempt was abandoned. Having returned to Chamonix, Lambard Meunier stated "that the sun almost scorched him; that they had no appetite to eat even a crumb; and that if he tried the excursion again, he should only take with him a parasol and a bottle of scent!"
During the same season, M. Bourrit, of Geneva, accompanied by two chamois hunters, reached the foot of asteep rock—probably the Aiguille du Bionassay—but being exhausted he could go no further. One of the guides remained with him, whilst the other went on until he reached the foot of the dome of Mont Blanc, from which he was only separated by a ridge of ice, and he was of opinion that had he only had time and some assistance he could have gained the summit.
1785.—De Saussure, accompanied by M. Bourrit and his son, started from the village of Bionassay on the 13th of September, and having climbed to the foot of the Aiguille du Goûté, they passed the night in a rude hut, eight feet by seven, which had been specially prepared for them. M. Bourrit, as well as his son, was afflicted by the rarified air and could not eat anything. At six next morning they started again. The route was dangerous, being over some snow drifts and blocks of ice. After five hours one of the guides, Pierre Balmat, proposed a halt, whilst he went on to reconnoitre the condition of the snow. In an hour he returned, and said that it was in such a treacherous state it would not be advisable to proceed. So the attempt was abandoned. They regained their cabin in safety, De Saussure remaining there another night to make scientific observations, but M. Bourrit, with his son, started off for Bionassay, not having a fancy for another night at this elevation.
1786.—Pierre Balmat, Marie Couttet, and another guide reached the top of the Dôme du Goûté, by the Aiguille of the same name, on the 8th June, suffering acutely from the rarifaction of the air. Here they fell in with François Paccard and three other guides, who had ascended by La Côte. Uniting their forces they went onwards and upwards, until they were brought to a stand by a ridge of ice—the Mauvaise Arête—which they considered to be inaccessible, and on their return they were nearly lost in a fearful storm of snow and hail.
"It so happened that one of Paccard's party, named Jacques Balmat, who appears just at this time not to have been very popular in the valley, had presented himself without invitation, and followed them against their will. When they turned to descend, they did not tell this poor man of their intention. Being on unfriendly terms with them, he had kept aloof; and whilst stopping to look for some crystals he lost sight of them, just as the snow began to fall, which rapidly obliterated their traces. The storm increasing, he resolved to spend the night alone in the centre of this desert of ice, and at an elevation of 14,000 feet above the level of the sea! He had no food; he got under the lee of a rock and formed a kind of niche in the snow; and there, half dead from cold he passed the long hours of that terrible night. At last morning broke—the storm had cleared away; and as Balmat endeavoured to move his limbs he found that his feet had lost all sensation—they were frost-bitten! Keeping up his courage he spent the day in surveying the mountain, and he was rewarded: he found that if the crevasses that border the Grand Plateau were once crossed, the path to the top of Mont Blanc was clear, and he then traced out the route which has, with little variation, been followed ever since. Balmat returned that evening to Chamonix. He took to his bed, and did not leave it for weeks. He kept his secret close, until moved with gratitude to Dr. Paccard, the village physician, the line of road was hinted at, and an attempt agreed upon as soon as Balmat recovered." On the 7th of August these two started alone. They ascended La Côte, and slept there. Before daybreak next morning they were on their march again. At three o'clock in the afternoon they were still uncertain as to the results of the enterprise. At last they arrived at the Summit, at sunset. Here they waited half an hour, and then returning got back to their night bivouac, where they again slept, by midnight. On the following morning they reached Chamonix by eight o'clock. Their faces wereswollen and excoriated—their eyes nearly closed; and for the next week Balmat was scarcely recognisable.
1787.—De Saussure, accompanied by eighteen guides, started from Chamonix on the 1st August. The summit of the Montagne de la Côte was reached in about six hours, and then the party encamped for the night. At four o'clock in the afternoon of the following day they prepared to pass the night on the snow, at an elevation of 12,300 feet above the level of the sea. De Saussure suffered considerably, and a raging thirst added to his discomfort. Next morning they crossed the Grand Plateau, and, after suffering much discomfort, succeeded in reaching the Summit; there they remained several hours, and then commenced to retrace their steps at half-past three in the afternoon. Towards evening they arrived at the Grands Mulets, where they bivouaced for the night. At six the next morning—that of the fourth day of the journey—they left the rocks, crossed the Glacier de Taconnaz, descended the Montagne de la Côte, and finally reached Chamonix in safety.
1788.—The indefatigable M. Bourrit made his fifth—unsuccessful—and last attempt in the autumn of this year. Regardless of expense, he engaged seventeen guides, and took provisions enough to last six days. Just before starting he was joined by Mr. Woodley, an Englishman, and Mr. Camper, a Dutchman, who were attended by five guides. This large party passed the first night on the Côte, and attempted to reach the Summit the next day. Mr. Woodley, with four guides, distanced the others, some of whom gave in on the Grand Plateau and returned to the Grands Mulets. MM. Bourrit and Camper commenced to beat a retreat after having nearly reached the foot of the last slope; then a mist came on, which added to their difficulties, but they managed to find their way to the tent, where, towards night, they were rejoined by Mr. Woodley and his guides, the formerwith his feet frost-bitten. The following morning they returned to Chamonix. Mr. Woodley was obliged to keep his feet in snow and salt for a fortnight; one of the Balmats was blind for three weeks; Cachat had his hands frozen, and poor M. Bourrit made up his mind never to try it again!
1791.—Two of the guides accompanying four Englishmen were seriously injured by a fall of rocks on La Côte—one of them sustaining a broken leg, the other a fractured skull.
1802.—On the 10th of August, M. Forneret and Baron Doorthensen reached the Summit after suffering acutely from the rarified air. M. Forneret compared the agony he endured to that of a man whose lungs were being violently torn from his chest!
1820.—The first recorded fatal accident occurred in this year. Dr. Hamel, accompanied by M. Selligue and two Oxford men—Messrs. Durnford and Henderson—and twelve guides, reached the Grands Mulets the first day. Here they were detained all the next by bad weather. At two the following morning the storm passed off, and day broke most beautifully. All were anxious to proceed, with the exception of M. Selligue, who considered that a married man had no right to risk his life in such a perilous adventure. Remonstrances proving of no avail, he was left behind with two guides, who were much disgusted with the arrangement. At twenty minutes past eight in the morning the party reached the Grand Plateau, where they made an attempt at breakfast, but there was no great appetite amongst them. At half-past ten they had arrived nearly below the Rochers Rouges, and shortly afterwards a frightful disaster happened, which is thus described by Mr. Durnford:—
"I was obliged to stop half a minute to arrange my veil; and the sun being at that moment concealed behind a cloud, I tucked it up under the large straw hat which I wore. Inthe interval, my companion, H——, and three of the guides, passed me, so that I was now the sixth on the line, and, of course, the centre man. H—— was next before me; and as it was the first time we had been so circumstanced during the whole morning, he remarked it, and said we ought to have one guide at least between us in case of accident. This I over-ruled by referring him to the absence of all appearance of danger at that part of our march; to which he assented. I did not then attempt to recover my place in front—though the wish more than once crossed my mind—finding, perhaps, that my present one was much less laborious. To this apparently trivial circumstance I was indebted for my life. A few minutes after the above conversation, my veil being still up, and my eyes turned at intervals towards the summit of the mountain—which was on the right, as we were crossing obliquely the long slope above described, which was to conduct us to Mont Maudit—the snow suddenly gave way beneath our feet, beginning at the head of the line, and carried us all down the slope on our left. I was thrown instantly off my feet, but was still on my knees and endeavouring to regain my footing, when, in a few seconds, the snow on our right—which, of course, was above us—rushed into the gap thus suddenly made, and completed the catastrophe by burying us all at once in its mass, and hurrying us downwards towards two crevasses about a furlong below us and nearly parallel to the line of our march. The accumulation of snow instantly threw me backwards, and I was carried down, in spite of all my struggles. In less than a minute I emerged, partly from my own exertions and partly because the velocity of the falling mass had subsided. I was obliged to resign my pole in the struggle, feeling it forced out of my hand. A short time afterwards I found it on the very brink of the crevass. This had hitherto escaped our notice from its being so far below us, and it was not until some time after the snow had settled that I perceived it. At the moment ofmy emerging I was so far from being alive to the danger of our situation, that, on seeing my two companions at some distance below, up to the arms in snow and sitting motionless and silent, a jest was rising to my lips, till a second glance shewed me that, with the exception of Mathieu Balmat, they were the only remnants of the party visible. Two more, however, being those in the interval between myself and the rear of the party, having quickly re-appeared, I was still inclined to treat the affair as a perplexing though ludicrous delay, in having sent us down so many hundred feet lower, than in the light of a serious accident, when Mathieu Balmat cried out that some of the party were lost, and pointed to the crevass, which had hitherto escaped our notice, into which he said they had fallen. A nearer view convinced us of the sad truth. The three front guides, Pierre Carrier, Pierre Balmat, and Auguste Tairraz, being where the slope was somewhat steeper, had been carried down with greater rapidity, and to a greater distance, and had thus been hurried into the crevass, with an immense mass of snow upon them, which rose nearly to the brink. Mathieu Balmat, who was fourth in the line, being a man of great muscular strength, as well as presence of mind, had suddenly thrust his pole in the firm snow beneath, when he felt himself going, which certainly checked, in some measure, the force of his fall. Our two hindermost guides were also missing, but we were soon gladdened by seeing them make their appearance, and cheered them with loud and repeated hurrahs. One of these, Julien Devoussaud, had been carried into the crevass where it was very narrow, and had been thrown with some violence against the opposite brink. He contrived to scramble out without assistance. The other, Joseph Marie Couttet, had been dragged out by his companions quite senseless, and nearly black from the weight of snow which had been upon him. It was a long time before we could convince ourselves that the others were past hope, and we exhausted ourselves fruitlessly for sometime in fathoming the snow with our poles." After relating how every effort had been made to recover the poor fellows, the abandonment of the ascent, and the melancholy return to Chamonix, he goes on to explain the cause of the accident. "During two or three days a pretty strong southerly wind had prevailed, which, drifting gradually a mass of snow from the summit, had caused it to form a sort of wreath on the northerly side, where the angle of its inclination to the horizon was small enough to allow it to settle. In the course of the preceding night that had been frozen, but not so hard as to bear our weight. Accordingly, in crossing the slope obliquely, as above described, with the summit on our right, we broke through the outer crust and sank in nearly up to the knees. At the moment of the accident a crack had been formed quite across the wreath; this caused the lower part to slide down under our weight on the smooth slope of snow beneath it, and the upper part of the wreath, thus bereft of its support, followed it in a few seconds and was the grand contributor to the calamity."
The route (l'Ancien Passage) followed on this occasion is no longer used—indeed, the guides are forbidden to go that way. On the 12th August, 1861, or thirty-nine years later, the remains of the three unfortunate men who had lost their lives in this ill-fated expedition were discovered at the orifice or "Snout" of the Glacier des Bossons. Besides the fragments of human bodies were found portions of clothing, boots, a lantern, and a boiled leg of mutton. These relics were identified by Couttet, who had formed one of the party when the accident occurred.
1843.—In the early part of September Sir Thomas Talfourd, with his son Francis, and Messrs. Bosworth and Cross, formed a party, and, attended by guides and porters, reached the Grands Mulets rocks, where they rested for some hours before starting for the summit. Sir Thomas, however, was compelled to return after having reached the spot whereS—— was taken ill (videpage 35). The start at midnight, and the cause of his return, is thus described by his own pen:
"I slept till the guides roused me at ten minutes before twelve from deep and sweet slumber. There was no moonlight—the only elemental felicity wanting to our enterprise—but the stars and snow relieved the darkness, which was also broken by numerous lanterns, which were already lighted, and shone among the bristling cornices of the rock below me like huge dull glow-worms. After the first sensation of cold and stiffness had subsided, and the mistiness that hangs over the perception of a suddenly-awakened sleeper in a strange place had dispersed, I took my pole, and picked my way down the rock, my steps being lighted by Julien's lantern, and soon found myself in the midst of the long procession of travellers and guides, slowly pacing the plain of snow which lies between the rock and the first upward slope. When we began to ascend, the snow was found so hard and so steep, that we were obliged to pause every ten paces, while the guides with hatchets cut steps. Every one, I believe, performs some part well; at least, few are without grace or power, which they are found to possess in a peculiar degree, if the proper occasion occurs to rouse it into action; and I performed the stopping part admirably. While we stood still I felt as if able to go on; and it is possible that if the progress had always been as difficult, and consequently as slow and as replete with stoppages, I might eventually have reached the summit—unless first frozen. But unluckily for me, these occasions of halting soon ceased; for the snow became so loose, as to present no obstacle excepting the necessity of sinking to the knees at every step. The line of march lay up long slopes of snow; nothing could ever be discovered but a waste of snow ascending in a steep inclination before us; no crevice gave us pause; there was nothing to vary the toil or the pain except that as fatigue crept on, and nature beganto discriminate between the stronger and the weaker, our line was no longer continuous, but broken into parties, which, of course, rendered the position of the hindermost more dispiriting. The rarity of the atmosphere now began to affect us; and as the disorder resulting from this cause was more impartial than the distribution of muscular activity, our condition was, for a short time, almost equalized; even Mr. Bosworth felt violent nausea and headache; while I only felt, in addition to the distress of increasing weakness, the taste or scent of blood in the mouth, as if it were about to burst from the nostrils. We thus reached the Grand Plateau—a long field of snow in the bosom of the highest pinnacles of the mountain—which, being nearly level, was much less distressing to traverse than the previous slopes; but just before the commencement of the next ascent, which rose in a vast dim curve, the immediate occasion of my failure occurred. Mr. Bosworth, who was in advance, turned back to inform me that my son was so much affected by the elevation, that his guides thought it necessary that he should return. We halted till we were joined by him and his guides, on two of whom he was leaning, and who explained that he was sick and faint, and wished to lie down for a few minutes, to which they would not consent, as, if he should fall asleep on the snow, he might never awake. The youth himself was anxious to proceed—quite satisfied, if he might only rest for a very little time, he could go on—but they shook their heads; and as their interests and wishes were strongly engaged for our success, I felt it was impossible to trifle with such a decision. I could not allow him to return without me; and therefore determined at once to abandon the further prosecution of the adventure; a determination which I should not else have formedat that moment, but which I believe I must have adopted soon from mere prostration of strength; and which, therefore, I do not lay in the least to the charge of his indisposition. He was still lightof limb, and courageous in heart; only afflicted by the treachery of the stomach, and dizziness produced by the rarity of the air; whereas, if I had been supported and dragged (as perhaps I might have been) to the foot of the steep La Côte, which is the last difficulty of the ascent, I do not believe I should have had muscular pliancy left to raise a foot up a step of the long staircase, which the guides are obliged to cut in the frozen snow. While the guides were re-arranging matters for the descent, I took one longing, lingering glance at the upward scenery, and perceived sublime indications of those heights I was never to climb."
1851.—In the month of August, Albert Smith made an ascent, which was rendered famous by the graphic account he gave of his adventures, during a period of several years, at the Egyptian Hall, in London. He was accompanied by three English gentlemen, and attended by no less than fifteen guides, as well as a small army of porters, who were employed to carry the provisions, wrappers, rugs, &c., as far as the Glacier des Bossons.
The party started from Chamonix at half-past seven in the morning, and reached the Grands Mulets at four in the afternoon. Shortly after midnight they resumed their journey, and having traversed the Grand Plateau they took the Corridor route, and arrived at their destination at nine in the morning. During the latter part of the ascent, Albert Smith seems to have been in a state bordering on delirium:
"With the perfect knowledge of where I was, and what I was about—even with such caution as was required to place my feet on particular places in the snow—I conjured up such a set of absurd and improbable phantoms about me, that the most spirit-ridden intruder upon a Mayday festival on the Hartz Mountains was never more beleaguered. I am not sufficiently versed in the finer theories of the psychology of sleep, to know if such a state might be; but I believe for the greater part of this bewildering period I was fast asleepwith my eyes open, and through them the wandering brain received external impressions; in the same manner, as upon awaking, the phantasms of our dreams are sometimes carried on, and connected with objects about the chamber. It is very difficult to explain the odd state in which I was, so to speak, entangled. A great many people I knew in London were accompanying me, and calling after me, as the stones did after Prince Pervis, in the Arabian Nights. Then there was some terribly elaborate affair that I could not settle, about two bedsteads, the whole blame of which transaction, whatever it was, lay on my shoulders; and then a literary friend came up, and told me he was sorry we could not pass over his ground on our way to the summit, but that the King of Prussia had forbidden it. Everything was as foolish and unconnected as this, but it worried me painfully; and my senses were under such little control, and I reeled and staggered about so, that when we had crossed the snow prairie, and arrived at the foot of an almost perpendicular wall of ice, four or five hundred feet high—the terrible Mur de la Côte—up which we had to climb, I sat down again on the snow, and told Tairraz that I would not go any further, but they might leave me there if they pleased."
Having stayed on the summit for half an hour, they retraced their steps, reaching the Grands Mulets at one o'clock, and Chamonix in the evening.
One of the most remarkable things in connection with this memorable ascent was the vast quantity of liquids and solids consumed, viz:—
93 Bottles of wine,3 Cognac,7 Lemonade and syrup,20 Loaves,10 Cheeses,8 Joints of mutton,6 " veal,46 Fowls;
93 Bottles of wine,3 Cognac,7 Lemonade and syrup,20 Loaves,10 Cheeses,8 Joints of mutton,6 " veal,46 Fowls;
besides packages of raisins, prunes, sugar, salt, and wax candles! The cost of this amounted to 456 francs, which, added to 1881 francs for the guides' fees, &c., brought up the sum total to 2337 francs, or £93 10s., which sum, divided by four—the number of tourists—gives £23. 7s. 6d. each. Thanks to the enterprising individual who manages the "Cabanes" at Pierre Pointue and the Grands Mulets, it is no longer necessary to take provisions; therefore, reader, should you ever visit those stations, do not grumble at the bill, but remember Albert Smith![A]
[A]This and the foregoing ascents are condensed from Albert Smith's "Mont Blanc."
[A]This and the foregoing ascents are condensed from Albert Smith's "Mont Blanc."
1866.—Sir George Young, with his brothers James and Albert, succeeded in reaching the Summit without guides or porters. Shortly after commencing the descent one of the brothers fell a depth of twenty feet and broke his neck. The survivors managed to reach the Grands Mulets at two in the morning. An hour later six guides arrived from Chamonix, and although Sir George had been on foot twenty-four hours he placed himself at the head of these men to recover his brother's body. In the meanwhile another party had come up, but they did not proceed further than the Grands Mulets. Early in the afternoon six of these guides went forward to render what assistance they could; and at five three more followed, carrying refreshments with them. At half-past seven the whole party returned, bringing the corpse with them. Sir George at once went down to Chamonix, which he reached about three in the morning, having been on foot for two days and two nights!
1870.—One of the most disastrous events, and which resulted in the loss of no less than eleven lives, occurred during this year. On the 5th September, Messrs. Randall, Bean, and Corkindale, accompanied by three guides and five porters, spent the night in the "Cabane" on the GrandsMulets, and next morning resumed their journey. All seems to have gone on well till they began to descend from the Summit, which they had reached at half-past two in the afternoon. About that time a cloud enveloped the highest parts of the mountain and obscured their movements. At ten o'clock the man in charge of the "Cabane," feeling uneasy at their not having arrived, sent to Chamonix for assistance. In the meanwhile a violent storm had set in, and it was with the greatest difficulty that the relief party managed to get to the Grands Mulets; and there they were forced to remain a whole week, during which time the storm raged with unabated fury. At last the weather cleared, and they went forward. On nearing the Summit they came upon five bodies, and a little further on upon five more; the eleventh could not be discovered. The poor fellows, being unable to find their way, had died of starvation and exposure. This, I believe, is the last fatal accident that has taken place on Mont Blanc.
Although the misfortunes related in the foregoing are somewhat numerous, they are not large when compared with the number of individuals who have successfully gained the Summit, and which must have amounted to about 8,000; and do not, probably, exceed the proportion of sporting accidents, if all those who have visited the Grands Mulets, and even higher elevations, are taken into consideration.